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I was with my friend Herbal during his last moments before he croaked.
“Do you have a last request, Herbal?” I asked.
“Yep. Order a pizza for me.”
“Hello Thai Pizza Company in Bangkok, I would like to order a pizza for my friend who is ready to croak.”
“What ‘croak’ mean? the Thai pizza gal said.
I explained.
“Sooo sorry about your friend who ready to croak.”
“Tell her to stop yakking and take my order.”
Apparently she heard Herbal.” What ‘yakking’ mean?”
I explained.
“My friend wants to know if you have emergency delivery service?”
“We guarantee delivery to deathbed before him croak.”
“That’s good news,” Herbal said. “Make it half pizza pesto and half marinara.”
“Can do. Him want extra cheese and special baked bread?”
“I want pizza only.”
“Did you hear what he said?”
“Me hear very good.”
“Tell her to cut the yakking.”
“Me stop yak, Mr. Croak.”

I received an email from my Nice Niece. She’s in the Marine Corps and serves as a 2nd lieutenant on the Defense Counsel Team. Nice told me she is getting ready for combat training.

“Scary,” she wrote.

I thought that the legal team was a piece a cake, meaning there was no combat activity. In my reply I suggested that Nice Niece invite her company commander (CO) to a Sunday afternoon coffee, croissant and Courvoisier over ice gathering in the Officers’ Club.

In her meeting Nice Niece would suggest that the combat training be put off until her next life.

She would also suggest that, instead of undergoing the rigors of combat training, she devote her time to hounding down rouge marines and coke-head marines.

A third suggestion was that she or the CO select a homeless woman and train her for the job. The homeless woman would get paid and become physically fit. As the saying goes, when you save one person, all of humanity benefits.

As we know, there is social security, emotional security, freedom-from-fear security and other types.

In my mind, the top security is SPIRITUAL SECURITY. My good friend Karen Jones in Bangkok glows from ‘spiritual security.’

Definition: A person who radiates warmth, charm, exuberance and caring. That person showers others with grace and love love love. Karen never says it but when I see her at work as a Reiki Master and healer, she seems to be chanting the Beatles mantra, “All we need is love. Love is all we need.” Her mantra is also evident when she takes off her Reiki Master’s hat and becomes her ‘ordinary’ self. Karen has no ‘ordinary self,” only her extraordinary Self.

Adding to the definition: Thai culture has an apt expression: “Jai yen yen.” It means calm down. Karen never has to be admonished to calm down. She floats in a sea of serenity.

When I look at the painting of St. Teresa I see the saintly one in her rapturous state. She is intoxicated with bliss and joy. So is Karen.

Mother Teresa was interviewed by Pat McMahon, a talkshow host on KTAR radio in Phoenix, Arizona. He pleaded with her to allow him to do something for her.

“Anything at all,” the talkshow host begged. “I want to help you in some way.”

Mother Teresa looked at him and said, “Tomorrow morning go out onto the streets of Phoenix. Find someone who is alone on the streets and believes that no one cares for him. Convince him that he’s not alone.”

A chain reaction resulted.

The talkshow host tawks to a wandering homeless man the following morning at 6:00 a.m. on the streets of Phoenix. The hopeless homeless man is touched by the stranger’s friendliness.

He is treated to breakfast at McDonald’s.

This is an example of random kindness from the talkshow host; it’s an example of Mother Teresa’s heart. It’s an example of our humanity.

ALBERT EINSTEIN:“Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”
– Quoted in interview by G. S. Viereck, 1929

My new work is called Einstein’s Two Fatal Mistakes–and a study of 14 other tortured souls, including Satan & Houdini

NOTE: Despite his mistakes, Einstein has a new legacy. We are able to experience our life from an exciting perspective. Another exciting Einsteinian thought–when our demise occurs, there will be a spiritual chain reaction.
SYNOPSIS: Einstein never acknowledged his second mistake, known as “The Theory of Everything” where he tried, unsuccessfully, to know the mind of God.
As we know, Einstein admitted to one of his mistakes—writing his letter to President Roosevelt in 1939; he warned that Hitler was developing an atomic bomb. Einstein’s equation (E=mc2) resulted in the making of the atomic bomb. At the war’s end Germany had not developed the nuclear weapon. Einstein, a pacifist, thought the bomb would not be used after Germany’s surrender.
His second mistake alienated and isolated Einstein from the scientific community. He was publicly humiliated in 1929, when his much-talked about new theory appeared as a headline in the New York Times. The story was about his “Theory of Everything.” Selfridge Dept Store in London posted his 6-page theory on its windows.
I was able to take Einstein’s E=mc2 equation and apply it to an animate object–the flesh and blood of a human. Einstein’s theory focused on inanimate objects. When applied to a human, we have an exciting discovery. This triumph enables Einstein to have a positive, although belated, legacy as we can now experience our life and death in a joyful way.
Chapters (in volume 1)
Einstein’s two tragic mistakes & his wonderful new legacy
The God Quartet features the Quaternity of God the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit & the Devil. God’s eight mistakes are highlighted
Houdini, his boast caused his death
The Unabomber, ragged and disturbed (his kinship with Norman Mailer)
Truman Capote, playmate of the Devil
Virginia Woolf, regrettably, death by suicide
Serena Williams, anger management, where are you?
Charlie Sheen, what a pity; he had it all
Bobby Fisher parts 1, 2 & 3
Wacko Jacko, dancing with Fred Astaire
Dostoevsky’s fabled character, Raskolnikov from Crime & Punishment
Charles Manson, he had a dispensation to kill
Toulouse Lautrec, body deformed, mind deformed
Jackson Pollock, 4 years of Jungian therapy—not helpful
Noble Laureate John Nash, A Beautiful Mind
NOTE: A one-man theatrical performance of this project is being shopped around.

(NOTE: This is a true story. In order to protect the identity of the players, the names have been changed)

My American friend Noodle operates a restaurant called “Yankee Noodle.” He told me about Chow Mein, his new Chinese girlfriend who recently came from China to manage an Import-Export Company, appropriately named “China Town.”

My good friend elaborated on the behavior problems of the overweight and poorly-dressed Chop Huey, First of all, the boy hates Americans. They are from the despised ‘Evil Empire.’

Chow Mein, his mom, has taken a fancy to the Yank.

Chop Huey also hates the Dalai Lama, an evil-doer who wants to take away Tibet, which he viewed as being a part of China.

Chop Huey is determined to destroy the relationship between his mom, Chow Mein, and her evil boyfriend, Noodle.

When the boy catches Noodle sleeping, he (Chop Huey) bangs a pot with a metal spoon until the rattled boyfriend wakes up with a whooper headache.

The boy refuses to talk to Noodle. Instead, he screams and yells at the befuddled bf.

“Chop Huey is bright,” Noodle told me. “He’s only been in Thailand three months and his English is outta sight. He’s top in his class in an international school.”

Noodle pleaded with me to have a heart-to-heart talk with Chop Huey.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because it’s quite possible that one whacko can relate to another whacko.”

I liked Noodle’s reasoning and accepted his challenge.

I met the young boy in the playroom of Noodle’s condo. Since I knew that Chinese were export ping pong players I proposed that we play one or two games.
To entice the boy to engage in the game I suggested we play for one hundred baht current value about $3.25). To sweeten the offer I suggested we play three games at one hundred baht per game.

Chop Huey has the body of a snow man. When he is at the opposite side of the ping pong table he takes up both sides of the table. I figured he snow man’s build would hamper his mobility, The snow man was delighted to take me on. Since he was monstrously overweight I thought he would put the paddle down and be too exhausted within five minutes.

We agreed that we play until to fifteen points was reached.
Chop Huey boasted that I wouldn’t get more than three points.
“You want to double the bet, Fat Boy?”
“What did you call me?
“Fat Boy.”
Instead of taking umbrage, he laughed and accepted two hundred baht per game.
The score was 15-2. Fat Boy’s favor.
I told him he was lucky. I would beat him the next game.
He asked if I would I agree to pay him four hundred baht if he shut me out. To sweeten the bet, he said we would play to twenty-one points.
“Fat Boy, you gotta be kiddin’. You expect me beat me 21 to nothing?”
With glee, he nodded. “Fat Boy can whip you 30 to zero,” he added.

I accepted his suicidal bet that I would score at least one point in a 21 game..
“First I go pee,” he said. “I hope you don’t run away while I pee.”
That is psychological warfare at its best. During his absence Yankee Noodle was ecstatic that I had engaged the boy in conversation.

Chop Huey returned with two large liters of coke, three croissants and a large bag of potato chips. When he devoured the treats he plunged into action.

The future Chinese ping pong champ whacked whacky me 21-0. That’s when I realized the previous game was a warm-up for him.
During our chow-down in a Starbuck’s in the Yank’s Yankee Noodle’s restaurant I asked what Chop Huey wanted to be when he grew up.
Without hesitating he said, “I want to be a corrupt Chinese official.”

I thought he was joking.

“Not joking.”
He told me he was learning English and Thai in order to accept bribes from Americans and Thais as well as Chinese when he returned to China in a few years.

I wished Chop Huey good luck.

Upon returning to my digs I checked out Transparency International.com. I wanted to know where China stood on the list of the Most Corrupt Nations.
China ranked 78 of 91 on the list of Corrupt Countries.

As many of you know, Thai people are playful (kon thai kii len). This is evident in the nicknames parents give to their children.
As many of you also know, I collect Thai nicknames. In the first chapter of my book Thai Touch, I cite many chuu len (playful names).
Below is an update of new names I discovered.
Guitar (it’s her real and nick name)
Som (Orange)
Som-oo-farang (Grapefruit)
Naam Chaa (Tea)
Cartoon (it’s her real and nick name)
What follows are taken from an earlier posting:
Top of the list and number one is
1. Monk Coconut (Pratow). Eric is from San Diego. He came to Thailand to be ordained as a Buddhist monk. He heard the Thai penchant for nicknames.
2. Muu Muu (Pig Pig). It’s the name of my filmmaker friend, Muu Muu. I call him Muu Muu Pig Pig. One day he said, “Richard, don’t call me Muu Muu Pig Pig.”
I said, “What you want me to call you?”
Muu Muu Pig Pig said, “Call me Muu Muu.”
I said, “Ok Muu Muu.” Then I turned away from him and whispered, “Pig Pig.”
3. Ay (Shy). She told me her mom said, “I was too shy to come out.”
4. Beer. That’s her name, Beer. Her mom and dad met at a karaoke bar. They became drinking buddies. They married. When the baby was born they were jubiliant and named her you-know-what.
5. M. That’s his name—M. He’s named after his father’s M Import Export Co.
6. Gop (Frog)
7. Muoy She’s a waitress in a restaurant. I kept calling her Muoy. A Thai gent came to my table and told me the waitress’ name is Oy, not Muoy. He told me Muoy means Pubic Hair. He pointed out Oy was too shy to correct me.8. Jim. She’s a nurse in the hemodialysis unit at Bangkok Nursing Hospital. If I say Jim in the wrong tone it means “Pussy.’
9. Suk (Happy). That’s a nurse’s name in the dialysis unit. It’s also the name of a fab tango dancer.
10. Tick Tock, a nurse in the dialysis unit.
11. Ping Pong, a waitress at Via Vai Restaurant on Sukhumvik Soi 8 in Bangkok.
Let me know other Thai nicknames. Thank you soooooo much.
Every year when I renew my retirement visa the last question is “Why do you want to extend your stay in the kingdom?”
Every year I give the same answer: “Because I love Thailand too much.”

Richard Rubacher
0 Reviews
iUniverse, 2009 – 132 pages
“Both Rubacher and Manson are brilliant, intuitive, half-mad artists and psychologists/manipulators…only God knows why one uses his energy and talent for good and why one wastes it in evil. Rubacher is on to something.” San Francisco Chronicle “Rubacher’s journey to the heart of darkness was not without travail. During the two years he corresponded with Manson, Rubacher says, he endured threats from members of the family and from Manson. Manson ordered several family members to pay menacing visits to Rubacher at his home.” Sacramento Bee “RR, I may let you live. Then again, maybe not. Sweet dreams.” Charles Manson “The author has incredible courage or is mad to involve himself with the psychopathic killer.” Lawrence McLoughlin, Speakers Bureau, Pattaya Expats Club, Thailand “Charlie Manson is one of the most intriguing personalities in law enforcement history. To study him is to confront evil at its worst.” Ret. Lt. H. Sigworth, Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.
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About the author (2009)
Rubacher hosted a weekly radio program on Reverse Speech.
Bibliographic information

Col. Kaddafi spent last nite (June 16) hiding out in a hospital in Tripoli. The name of the hospital is known. Kaddafi’s hiding places can be updated.
The new Al Queda leader is hiding out in Yemen.
This info is provided by my Truth Machine—a crystal pendulum whose name is Knowing Nose (KN). It is Knowing Knows’ job to sniff out the truth.
In the 1950s Verne Cameron informed the US Navy that he could locate the exact location of America’s nuclear subs. The navy whisked him to its HQ. Verne, with the aid of the mighty pendulum, pinpointed with accurate precision the location of America’s nuclear subs.
Verne also found the precise locations of the then-Soviet Union’s nuclear subs.
The South African government wanted to hire Verne Cameron to locate precious minerals in S. Africa. The U.S. State Department disapproved his passport application, stating that Verne Cameron was a threat to the United States interests.
In the Vietnam War the mighty pendulum located Viet Cong ammo supply dumps, mine fields and hidden tunnels. All this and more are documented in the book, PENDULUM POWER—a mystery you can see, a power you can feel by Greg Nielsen & Joseph Polansky.
Documentation is also found in multiple ‘net sites.
A gent from India wanted to know if he will win the lottery. KN’s answer: No.
The gent wanted to mangle and strangle Knowing Nose.
In the next week or two I will cite instances how Knowing Nose was used to answer peoples’ questions. Examples: two women wanted to know the gender of their babe-in-womb. One woman already knew the gender. The cunning woman tried to trick KN. Example: is a relationship with one’s boyfriend/girlfriend toxic?

Before his death from cancer in 1981,
the great American playwriter William Saroyan
phoned the Associated Press
and dictated a final statement.
He said:
“Everybody has got to die,
but I have always believed
an exception would be made
in my case.

I saw THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE as a film and a theatrical production. It won the Pulitizer Prize (1939) and the New York Drama Critics Award (1940). Like FORREST GUMP, I watch the film whenever it’s shown on TV.

Many of us are familiar with Woody Allen’s quip on death: ‘I know I’m going to die someday but I don’t want to be around when it happens.”

Here is Eugene O’Neill, the American playwright’s take on the death of his dog.playwright. It’s called ‘My dog’s last will and testament.’

I, SILVERDENE EMBLEM O’NEILL (familiarly known to my family, friends, and acquaintances as Blemie), because the burden of my years and infirmities is heavy upon me, and I realize the end of my life is near, do hereby bury my last will and testament in the mind of my Master. He will not know it is there until after I am dead. Then, remembering me in his loneliness, he will suddenly know of this testament, and I ask him then to inscribe it as a memorial to me.

I have little in the way of material things to leave. Dogs are wiser than men. They do not set great store upon things. They do not waste their days hoarding property. They do not ruin their sleep worrying about how to keep the objects they have, and to obtain the objects they have not. There is nothing of value I have to bequeath except my love and my faith. These I leave to all those who have loved me, to my Master and Mistress, who I know will mourn me most, to Freeman who has been so good to me, to Cyn and Roy and Willie and Naomi and — But if I should list all those who have loved me, it would force my Master to write a book. Perhaps it is vain of me to boast when I am so near death, which returns all beasts and vanities to dust, but I have always been an extremely lovable dog.

I ask my Master and Mistress to remember me always, but not to grieve for me too long. In my life I have tried to be a comfort to them in time of sorrow, and a reason for added joy in their happiness. It is painful for me to think that even in death I should cause them pain. Let them remember that while no dog has ever had a happier life (and this I owe to their love and care for me), now that I have grown blind and deaf and lame, and even my sense of smell fails me so that a rabbit could be right under my nose and I might not know, my pride has sunk to a sick, bewildered humiliation. I feel life is taunting me with having over-lingered my welcome. It is time I said good-bye, before I become too sick a burden on myself and on those who love me. It will be sorrow to leave them, but not a sorrow to die. Dogs do not fear death as men do. We accept it as part of life, not as something alien and terrible which destroys life. What may come after death, who knows? I would like to believe with those of my fellow Dalmatians who are devout Mohammedans, that there is a Paradise where one is always young and full-bladdered; where all the day one dillies and dallies with an amorous multitude of houris, beautifully spotted; where jack rabbits that run fast but not too fast (like the houris) are as the sands of the desert; where each blissful hour is mealtime; where in long evenings there are a million fireplaces with logs forever burning, and one curls oneself up and blinks into the flames and nods and dreams, remembering the old brave days on earth, and the love of one’s Master and Mistress.

I am afraid this is too much for even such a dog as I am to expect. But peace, at least, is certain. Peace and long rest for weary old heart and head and limbs, and eternal sleep in the earth I have loved so well. Perhaps, after all, this is best.

One last request I earnestly make. I have heard my Mistress say, “When Blemie dies we must never have another dog. I love him so much I could never love another one.” Now I would ask her, for love of me, to have another. It would be a poor tribute to my memory never to have a dog again. What I would like to feel is that, having once had me in the family, now she cannot live without a dog! I have never had a narrow jealous spirit. I have always held that most dogs are good (and one cat, the black one I have permitted to share the living room rug during the evenings, whose affection I have tolerated in a kindly spirit, and in rare sentimental moods, even reciprocated a trifle). Some dogs, of course, are better than others. Dalmatians, naturally, as everyone knows, are best. So I suggest a Dalmatian as my successor. He can hardly be as well bred or as well mannered or as distinguished and handsome as I was in my prime. My Master and Mistress must not ask the impossible. But he will do his best, I am sure, and even his inevitable defects will help by comparison to keep my memory green. To him I bequeath my collar and leash and my overcoat and raincoat, made to order in 1929 at Hermes in Paris. He can never wear them with the distinction I did, walking around the Place Vendôme, or later along Park Avenue, all eyes fixed on me in admiration; but again I am sure he will do his utmost not to appear a mere gauche provincial dog. Here on the ranch, he may prove himself quite worthy of comparison, in some respects. He will, I presume, come closer to jack rabbits than I have been able to in recent years. And for all his faults, I hereby wish him the happiness I know will be his in my old home.

One last word of farewell, Dear Master and Mistress. Whenever you visit my grave, say to yourselves with regret but also with happiness in your hearts at the remembrance of my long happy life with you: “Here lies one who loved us and whom we loved.” No matter how deep my sleep I shall hear you, and not all the power of death can keep my spirit from wagging a grateful tail.

This is being written before the ex-IMF boss’ hearing at the grand jury in Manhattan to determine if he is guilty of sexually assaulting a chambermaid in his hotel room.

How do I know that Dominique Strauss-Khan is guilty? Good question. I consulted my mighty PENDULUM.

Following the pendulum protocol, I asked this question: “Is the ex-IMF boss guilty of sexually assaulting the New York City chambermaid?”
The pendulum swung to and fro, which means Yes.

My friend Jeanne (not her real name) wanted to know if she should continue her fling with Joel. I asked pendulum 5 questions.
1. Are Jeanne & Joel physically compatible?
Answer: Yes, which means they enjoy sex.
2. Are they emotionally compatible?
Yes
3. Are they mentally compatible?
No
4. Are they spiritually compatible?
No.
5. Should they get married?
A resounding No.
Jeanne asked for my advice. ‘Enjoy your sexual and emotional relationship with Joel,’ I said.

You can check this story out on a search engine. Verne Cameron was tested by the US Navy. He claimed he could locate the navy’s nuclear subs. By using is pendulum he not only located the subs, he also located the Russian nuke subs.

The South African government wanted to hire Verne to locate mineral deposits in S. Africa. The US State Dept denied issuing him a passport. They claimed he was a security risk.
In the Vietnam War the US Army located enemy mines, ammo depots and tunnels by using the pendulum.

As the Mafioso like to say, O’Hammer dim Laden is hanging out with the fishes.

Five hours after his Last Supper, the doomed man was hammered. Then, in true Mafioso-style, he was tossed into the depths. The hammer came down on O’Hammer Osama.

Finally, his light went dim until it was extinguished.

O’Hammer’s lightning departure is a good thing. With him there was Devil on Earth.

Without him, Peace on Earth is on its merry way to becoming a reality.

ABOUT THE PHOTO FLAP
As they say in tennis circles, the ball is in dim Laden’s court, meaning he has to prove that he is not dead.
Evidence can be established by having him rise from his watery grave and walk on water. He will be captured by Somali pirates. Realizing their good fortune, the pirates will hold a press conference and display the resurrected one to the world.

Before having the dead man talkin’ to the paparazzi, the pirates announce an auction will be held, with the prize going to the highest bidder.
Ecstatic that the charismatic founder of the jihad movement has snubbed death, the echelon of Al Queda and the Taliban will have their suicide bombers halt detonating themselves into the holy land. They will sell cookies and tea at kiosks to raise the ransom money.
When the money is raised, the founder of the jihad movement will appear before the paparazzi at the press conference.

When he says, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am here before you. Death cannot touch me. Ha ha.”

At this moment his appearance and statement will convince me that he is not dead.

Mr. President I continue to be amazed, mystified, befuddled and surprised that you, your advisors, the US Ambassador to the UN and the Sec’y of State Ms. Clinton have not articulated the obvious—the biggest losers in the Mid-East and North African are Al Queda and the Taliban.

I am also befuddled that leaders of the Republican, Democrats and the Tea Party also have failed to notice the obvious–the biggest losers in the Mid-East and North African outbursts for freedom are Al Queda and the Taliban.

It’s strange how silent Al Queda have been since the wildfire desire for freedom has spread throughout the regions.

The people in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Bahrain, Jordan and Syria have made it clear they are not willing to become martyrs for an Al Queda type of government.

It is also strange that the number of suicide bombers trained by Al Queda have been inactive during the siege.

As we know, Kaddafi is fond of saying, “Everybody loves me.”

It is apparent that the French jet fighters love Kaddafi.

The British jet fighters love Kaddafi.

The American Tomahawk missiles love Kaddafi.

The recently-defected Libyan Foreign Minister loves Kaddafi.

The Libyan militants love Kaddafi to death.

CNN and BBC continue to show a Libyan government spokesman who made this quixotic statement, “The allied bombing of Libya is immoral.”
The gent who uttered those words speaks very good English; he has a presentable appearance before the camera. When he talks he is comical but he does not realize that he is projecting his thoughts of the immoral Libyan government.

Mr. President, members of the Tea Party and others who have failed to notice the obvious–the biggest losers in the Mid-East and North African cries for freedom are Al Queda and the Taliban.

I have a modest proposal to make: Step up a psychological campaign to topple Kaddafi. Leaflets were dropped in German cities during WWII allied airborne missions over Germany.

One of the leaflets to be dropped in Tripoli and other government-held cities can contain a picture of Mussolini hanging from his heels. The Libyan supporters will “get the picture” that Kaddafi will suffer the same fate.

Leaflets with pictures of Kaddafi and his sons can fall from the heavens as the Libyan capitol are bombarded. The pics can show Kaddafi and sons hanging from their heels.

A leaflet can show a pic of Adolf Hitler with the caption: “Hitler was determined to let his people die to the last man, woman and child.”

Another leaflet can list the number of Arab nations and African counties that support the toppling of Kaddafi and his sons.

More leaflets with comical illustrations can rain down on Kaddafi supporters.
Indeed, everybody loves Kaddafi, exceptions are Al Queda and the Taliban.

Mr. President Oh-Mama, perhaps you can shout from the rooftops that the best way to fight Al Queda and Taliban terrorists is by supporting the rebels and dissidents in the autocratic regimes, which, by the way, you are doing by sending love sweet love to Kaddafi with Tomahawk missiles, jet fighters and the covert action of the CIA.

The Arabs-in-revolt are truly revolting to their leaders and a blessing to the free world.

Mr. President, when I watch the next CNN & BBC news update I expect to see you on the rooftop saying, “The biggest losers in the domino effect are–”

ADDENDUM
I pondered the question—What’s the difference between Al Queda, the Taliban and the freedom-loving countries?

The answers: Al Queda and the Taliban represent the Culture of Death. No dancing or singing in the rain. No dancing and no singing in the sunshine or moonlight. Enslavement of women. Alcoholic beverages, forbidden. No zenze of humor.No say in choosing your leaders. No freedom of assembly.

As an expat who enjoys the excitement of Bangkok, I see Muslims on holiday in this cosmopolitan city that is known to as “the Venice of Asia.”
The Muslims on holiday in Bangkok have made a temporary jailbreak from the Culture of Death.

In Bangkok they are seen in pubs, girlie bars, and in massage parlors to partake of “a special massage.” They are partying before returning to their prison cell run by the Al Queda and Taliban wardens. What a grim and grimy torture they suffer until they return to the Culture of Life for a temporary reprieve.

There is another choice open to the prisoners. Break out the shackles and storm the gates…